


Connection

by blackpercy



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, the rest are all mentioned/side pairings so dont get ur hopes up, this is a perachel fic i just wanted to tag correctly, this is for gloria ❤️
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackpercy/pseuds/blackpercy
Summary: 5 times Percy shows Rachel he loves her as adults and 1 time Rachel makes it explicitly clear
Relationships: Piper Mclean/Shel, Rachel Elizabeth Dare & Drew Tanaka, Rachel Elizabeth Dare & Percy Jackson, Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Percy Jackson, Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano/Drew Tanaka
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Connection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LovelyVerisimilitude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyVerisimilitude/gifts).



It’s a beautiful ceremony.

The venue is on top of a tall building, on the roof of a fancy hotel. There are gold streamers and playful photo booths set up everywhere. The wall of roses, provided by Aphrodite herself, sets the scene for the bridesmaids, groomsmen, and, most importantly, the brides.

Piper walks down the aisle with her father, who has a tear in his eye. She’s not a teenager anymore, she’s a grown woman marching into a new period with the love of her life. Piper’s white tux softly accentuates her brown skin and her radiant grin.

Shel’s eyes pop at the altar. Rachel exchanges a happy look with Leo, who is Piper’s best man. There’s love in the couples’ eyes as the priest recites the introduction. 

“I, Piper McLean, take you, Shelby Nicholson, to be my wedded wife,” Piper holds back a grin as she says her vows. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”

Shel recites the same thing, lovingly and meaningfully. Rachel remembers talking to Piper about the vows. The other woman hadn’t wanted to change them, she wanted to prove anything special she could say to Shel in the years they would be married.

Leo hands Piper her ring, a gold band, and a woman with dark locs hands Shel her ring, a silver band.

“By the power vested in me by the State of California,” the pastor declares. “I now pronounce you wife and wife! You may kiss the bride.”

Before Shel can kiss her wife, Piper murmurs something the rest can’t hear. 

“Till death do we part, huh?” Piper asks, a smile growing on her lips. Shel can only match her expression.

“Till death.” And she seals the words with a kiss, an explosion of applause erupts around the venue. Someone is sobbing.

“This is beautiful,” Hazel whispers from behind Rachel. The redhead nods as she watches the happy couple run down the aisle. Leo throws rice at them. Rachel doesn’t even try to question it when the Cherokee woman turns around to flip him off.

Piper and Shel deserve all the happiness they can get. Rachel’s just happy they found it.

* * *

Rachel has fifteen minutes to redo her makeup and change into a different dress for the after-party.

She runs to her hotel room the minute nobody’s looking, sprinting at dangerous speeds for a clumsy twenty-three-year-old in four-inch heels. 

She sees the elevator a couple of meters ahead of her and if she keeps the pace, she can make it. If Rachel doesn’t get there now, she’ll be late for the after-party which isn’t a good look as one of the brides’ bridesmaids.

“No, please!” She shouts. “Hold it! Please!” Despite her cries, the door closes. _Right_ in her _face_. 

Rachel, like the mature adult she is, responds by chucking her needle width heel at the door. The unlucky part? It opens again and hits a tall man in the eye.

“Shit.”

Her eyes widen as she contemplates running away. But, _no_ , she will confront the consequences of her actions even if there could be a very pissed off man standing there to greet her.

The man is around her age, with brown skin and curly, jet black hair. He’s much taller than Rachel, she only reaches his chin. Despite the circumstances, he has a crooked grin on his lips while he holds her shoe and-

Wait.

There’s something familiar about him. Something incredibly familiar, actually. Maybe it’s his lopsided, questioning smile. Rachel stares at him for another second before it clicks.

“Percy?!”

Realization floods his green eyes as the demigod beckons her forward. “Rachel, oh my gods, it’s been...wow, it’s been forever.”

Rachel nods in agreement. The last time she saw Percy, they were sixteen. Of course, she had been at Camp Half-Blood during the second war, but there hadn’t been much time to revitalize their already dying friendship. They had fallen out, which was a shame.

Rachel turns to get a good look at him as she pushes the number on the elevator. 

Puberty hit him like a _truck_. He’s taller now, his jaw is stronger, his eyes are friendlier. He has a geometric design shaved at the back of his cut, his curls are still tightly coiled and just a little bit shorter as they fall on his forehead.

Percy looks relaxed, happy, even. She can only imagine how refreshed he must be feeling after years of almost zero contact from the gods. 

“So!” Rachel says awkwardly, realizing she’s been staring for too long. “Um, sorry for throwing my shoe...at you.”

Percy chuckles, a deep, friendly sound. His voice has changed too, Rachel notes. 

“You can’t kill me that easily,” he teases. “I can see your aim is still just as good as it was when we were fifteen.”

“Actually, it’s better.” Rachel blurts it out before she can stop herself. It’s an ill-timed confession, but it’s the truth. A year ago, she took up archery as stress relief from getting disowned. (She had never used their money in the first place, but it still stung). Putting sharp arrows into soft things proved to be very therapeutic.

Percy peers at her for a good second. An _uncomfortable_ second. He just...stares.

Then he bursts into laughter so violent he has to hold the wall, which is weird because it wasn’t even funny.

“Rachel, what the…” Percy gasps for air, his eyes screwed shut as he clutches his torso with one arm. “Oh my _gods_ , you haven’t changed.”

“Is that a good thing?” Rachel mutters. She’s slightly shocked right now, and vaguely aware of the fact the elevator is on level 7.

Percy smiles at her, radiant and sincere. “It’s an _amazing_ thing.”

* * *

They end up in the back of the after-party watching people dance to Khalid.

There’s something about weddings that makes Rachel want to continuously cry her eyes out, especially when it’s a friend. Rachel values her independence, but the idea of finding lasting happiness with another person…

She grabs a glass of champagne off a passing tray.

“To love,” Percy mutters as he downs a glass of champagne that he absolutely should _not_ down. 

“And to the lack of it,” Rachel completes it and sips her glass. She peers at the man over the amber liquid. He’s unbuttoned a button on his shirt and loosened his tie because everybody’s either tipsy or too drunk to care.

“How’s Annabeth?” Rachel asks him. Percy is speaking like a man who isn’t dating the girl of his dreams. She always expected that _they_ would be the ones married by now. Probably with a kid, too. 

Percy chuckles humorlessly. “We broke up around a year and a half ago.”

She expects such an answer, but the urge to drop her glass is very strong. The redhead lifts an eyebrow and sips her champagne cooly.

“I’m sorry, dude.” Rachel cringes at the fact she still talks like a sixteen-year-old. “Was it hard?”

Percy shakes his head. The party lights in the darkened room reflect off his jet black hair. “Surprisingly, it wasn’t. I think we were forced together through crazy times, wars, and a lot of traumatizing stuff. It wasn’t very sustainable and we both probably knew it.”

He still kneecaps his sentences. Rachel remembers a time where she’d constantly tell him not to do that. Nonetheless, she nods. 

“Are you happy?”

It’s a dumb question and she immediately regrets asking it. Percy glances at her.

“I see you still ask deep questions.”

She cringes again and absentmindedly tugs on a curl. The amber liquid in her glass is still fizzy. “Sorry if that was... insensitive.”

Percy moves closer to her, shaking his head insistently. His eyes sparkle slightly, and Rachel’s struck by the shade of green. It’s a shade she could never replicate, no matter how many darks and lights and shades she tossed in a palette. It’s purely, distinctly, Percy Jackson. That hasn’t changed.

“Rachel, please don’t apologize for that,” he says softly. Somehow, she can hear him over the music. “ _Gods_ , have we really talked so little you apologize for asking questions?”

“To be fair, it was a really bad one.”

“You always ask bad questions,” he teases. “But you never used to apologize for it.”

They fall silent. The beat of a fast hip-hop song buzzes inside Rachel's ears. She glances at Percy, then the crowds, before holding out her hand to him.

“Wanna dance?” She asks. An unfamiliar nervousness curls itself in her stomach, and she wants to throw it out. She’s Rachel Elizabeth Dare, and asking a man to dance with her has never made her anxious.

Percy holds his hands up. “One thing that hasn’t changed? I don’t dance.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Rachel says with an eye roll. “Sophomore year, you killed it at Homecoming.”

“I swayed, Rachel. Nobody can screw up a sway.”

Rachel smiles and grabs his hand. “Hush, you. It was the best sway I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“I looked like Keanu Reeves in that one video-”

“You looked amazing, you self deprecating little jerk.” Rachel cuts him off with a smirk. “Now, can you and your perfect sway mozy down to the dance floor?”

Percy cringes at her terrible country accent. “Never do that again.”

“Dance with me, then.”

He stares at her warily before breaking with an exaggerated groan. “Fiiiine, but you can’t tease me anymore.” He pouts, strangely cute. “I’m _grown_.”

She’s _never_ going to stop teasing him but she winks at the taller man and drags him toward the crowd anyway.

“Why would I _ever_ do that, Perseus?”

  
  


* * *

_1 - he’ll treat you like you’re worth it_

* * *

Reconnecting isn’t as hard as she thought it would be.

It just takes a phone call, a follow-up, a day out, and Rachel’s got her best friend back.

They have a tradition now. Someone brings snacks to the other person’s place and they watch two-star movies they hate. It’s incredibly important and the basis of their revitalized friendship.

Today it’s Percy’s turn to bring the snacks and Rachel is quite _literally_ running around her apartment like a maniac.

She rearranges the cushions, then puts them back again. She moves around her couch then declares “if it ain’t broke-” Rachel is driving herself crazy nitpicking every little detail in her apartment over a guy who’s been there thirteen times (not like she’s counting or anything).

There’s a knock on her door, and Rachel quickly checks to make sure her hair isn’t too messy and her clothes are clean before she opens it with a smile.

Percy’s holding two huge bags of popcorn. He’s wearing a grey sweatshirt that says “AHS Swim Team” and sweatpants. He’s also smiling that troublemaker’s grin, the one that makes Rachel’s heart do turns.

“I know you like this brand,” he begins. “But I didn’t remember what flavor so I brought both.”

Rachel might die at his innocent expression. “Percy...you didn’t have to...you could have just texted me.”

He winks and leans against the door. “You’re worth two bags of popcorn.”

She processes that. Rachel doesn’t know the last time somebody told her she was worth...well, anything. The very words cause heat to crawl up her cheeks and make her tuck a loose curl behind her ear.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” mutters Rachel. She grabs his hand and pulls him into her apartment with a grin. “Enough sappy stuff, we’re watching The Kissing Booth.”

“Oh, gods, no-”

* * *

_2 - he cares about things that are important to you_

* * *

Rachel has just enough time to put on light makeup, change into a trendy white blouse and dark-wash jeans with white heels, and pick up her phone.

“Where are you?” Percy demands from the other end. “Rache, you need to get here _now_.”

“Yeah, well I’m kinda hauling ass to get in my car right now,” Rachel grumbles as she rushes to her car. The rain lightly pelts her, and she’s certain it can only get worse. 

There’s supposed to be an exhibit with one of her works featured in it. Rachel hadn’t expected a big break, but she’d gotten it. The one problem is that she had left her keys at work, had to drive back there, and now she's going to be late.

Who would have guessed that Percy Jackson would be a stickler for timing?

“You need me to pick you up?” He sounds suddenly worried, at which Rachel laughs.

“I’m alright. There’s just gonna be some traffic. Just start without me, I can afford fashionably late.”

“You can’t afford anything,” Percy snorts on the other line. “You’re broke.”

“Ouch, I’m starting to regret bringing you as my plus-one.”

“Plus ones aren’t supposed to get there before the literal guest of honor.”

“I’m a participant, actually.”

“Byyeee,” he draws out the vowel dryly and overenthusiastically. “If you’re late, Mom’s gonna kick your ass.”

Then he cuts off the call and Rachel can’t stop smiling.

* * *

_3 - he’ll take care of you_

* * *

Rachel hates being sick.

Honestly, who even likes having a cold? Maybe some people enjoy the solitude and the excuse not to go to work, but not Rachel. 

Her sanity depends on having things to do, stuff to distract her from the ever-increasing emptiness in her chest and the constant nightmares. If she has a busy day, maybe it’ll keep her up through a terror-filled night. 

But when she’s sick, she can’t avoid all of that.

Her phone starts to ring, but it’s the specific tone of FaceTime. Rachel sighs, knowing she looks like crap, and picks up Percy's call.

“You look like shit,” are the first words out of his mouth. Rachel glares at him through red-rimmed eyes.

“Thanks for the reminder, Prince Charming.”

Percy laughs, then pouts. It’s really not fair because Rachel and her blocked sinuses should be the ones pouting but she just stares at her screen.

“Yes?”

“I’m coming over after work,” he declares. Percy looks like he’s on his way to work. Rachel remembers him telling her he works at a martial arts place, and his end goal is to be a stuntman or teach at his own center. She guesses that the adrenaline from years in the demigod world never faded from him, he just wanted the excitement without the trauma.

“Please don’t do that,” Rachel sighs. “I don’t wanna get you sick.”

“I’m a demigod,” he scoffs. “If I get sick I’ll just take a shower or something.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about and at this point, I'm too afraid to ask."

“You can’t stop me,” Percy says in a sing-song voice. Rachel can hear the sound of a starting car.

“I’ll lock you out.”

“I’m bringing soup!”

True to his word, six hours later, Percy appears at her front door with sympathy and chicken noodle soup.

He sits next to her on her bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. Rachel makes sure to sit on the other side, away from him. He looks comfortable in a hoodie and Adidas pants, and way too good compared to Rachel’s ratty sweatshirt and sweats.

“You okay?” He asks her softly. Percy leans back on her headboard, watching her carefully. Rachel shoots him a glare.

“I have a cold, Percy, not cancer.”

He rolls his eyes at her. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you.”

“Don’t,” she says as she takes the thermos from his hands and slurps the hot soup. Percy looks appalled.

“I can’t believe I brought you soup just for you to drink it burning hot. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Everything.” Rachel winks. “Except for my face."

Although, the effect is ruined when she sneezes into her arm and feels her life flash before her eyes from the pain in her throat and head.

“I’m gonna dieeee,” she moans. Rachel collapses onto her back, underneath her blanket and the weight of her suffering. “Percy, bury me somewhere nice.”

“Got it. My backyard.”

“I literally hate you.”

Percy grins crookedly and moves to lie down next to her. Rachel whines and turns her back to him.

“Percy, I’m gonna get you sick.”

“I don’t care, Rache,” he says softly. “I’m not leaving you to throw a pity party by yourself.”

“It’s not a pity party,” Rachel pouts. “It’s a pity _gathering_. Only one person is invited and that is _me_.”

Percy draws her to his chest in a swift moment. Despite the noise of protest she made, she can’t help but turn in his arms and snuggle closer to him. He smells like coffee and fresh laundry.

“You’re pathetic,” he whispers into her hair. Rachel lightly slaps his chest, but she can feel her mouth betray her in a smile.

She’s been doing that a lot more lately. Smiling.

* * *

_4 - he’ll be there for you_

* * *

It’s Saturday, and they’re babysitting Estelle.

Theirs is a simple arrangement. Percy is half sitting-half lying down on his couch, Estelle is on Percy’s lap dozing off, and Rachel’s head is on his shoulder while she’s fighting sleep.

“If I sleep off, pinch me,” she mumbles. Her eyelids are already drooping, so she sits up. What Rachel doesn’t know is how absent his shoulder feels without her now.

“Why?” He asks quietly. His mind instantly jumps to the worst-case scenario, but he pushes the thought away before he can give himself a panic attack. “Are you okay?”

 _No_. Rachel forces herself to nod, anyway. “I’m fine, Percy. I just...the spirit of Delphi sends me these _cute_ little visions that make me wake up in a cold sweat and scream at the top of my lungs.” Rachel shrugs pointedly, “So I fixed that by not sleeping.”

Percy glances at his little sister and looks at her. Estelle doesn’t stir from their hushed tones. Rachel catches the shade of disappointment that crosses his face, but he recovers quickly.

“I-I forgot you’re the Oracle,” he confesses. Rachel laughs bitterly.

“Sometimes, I forget too.”

They go silent for a minute. Rachel picks at her nails and tries to ignore her pounding headache while Percy processes her words.

“Rachel,” he says finally. The way he says her name is so... _soft_ , she can’t help but melt. “You need to sleep. It’s how you heal and get better and clear your acne and shit.”

“My acne is perfectly fine, thank you very mu-”

Her words trail off into silence as Percy glares at her. She forgot how scary the son of Poseidon could be. He manages to move his hand without disturbing Estelle and places it over hers.

“Rachel, please,” he says slowly. “Sleep. I’ll be here, right next to you, if anything happens. Trust me, I’ve had my fair share of nightmares.”

“Do you still have them?” Rachel asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Percy nods.

“All the time.’’

She feels guilty but she leans on his shoulder and lets him wrap an arm around her. On instinct, she snuggles closer. Rachel catches Percy’s eye in the darkness.

Slowly, she brings a hand up to trace his brow. It isn’t smooth, it looks like he’s had a date with a wall. She doesn’t miss the way his breath catches, or the way his resolve visibly crumbles. Rachel smirks.

“Kick me out if you need to, babe.”

“ _Shut up._ ”

If Rachel can’t do anything anymore, at least she can still make Percy nervous as hell. At least that hasn’t changed.

  
  


* * *

_5 - he’ll fight for you_

* * *

“So, you’re telling me you met the guy you had a crush on as a teenager and have been basically besties with him for, what, seven months? And you’re ‘just friends’? I’m calling bullshit.”

Rachel shrugs as she and Drew walk into the venue. The works of art are placed on podiums and hung on walls. A golden chandelier hangs in the hall. The warm lighting accentuates Rachel’s satin deep green, modified A-line gown. Drew looks amazing in bold makeup and a knee-length red dress. 

“That’s just how it is,” Rachel says pausing to nod at a rich person who recognized her. Drew strides right beside her, just as confidently.

“Rachel, if he wasn’t in love with you _then_ , he probably is _now_.” Drew checks her manicure as they stand by Rachel’s painting. “And if he isn’t in love, he’s _definitely_ attracted to you.”

“Drew, I’m the Oracle,” Rachel sighs. “Virgin. The _virgin_ Oracle."

“Oh please,” scoffs Drew. “You think you’d be the first Oracle to break a celibacy vow?”

“I’m literally being watched by the god of the sun. Don’t you think he’d know?”

“Do it at night then.”

Rachel slices a glare at Drew. Drew only blows her a sarcastic kiss and smirks.

Nobody would have expected Drew to become Rachel’s closest friend, but it happened. Unfortunately, that means a lot of time is spent berating Rachel about her lack of a boyfriend. 

Drew’s dad knows someone who knows someone and managed to get tickets to see Rachel’s big night. Another one of Rachel’s paintings had made it into a gallery, but this one was much fancier and made her _way_ more nervous.

“That’s not how it works.” It’s a weak reply and Drew knows it. For some reason, the other woman doesn’t say anything.

Rachel looks around for Percy, for some sign of his tall form and distinguishable undercut. She had invited him to be her plus-one and, as great as Drew is, she did not sign up for a whole night of her snark.

Rachel picks up a champagne glass from a tray and glances at her friend. “Don’t you wanna meet up with Reyna? Did you bring her?”

Drew smirks. “Reyna will be here in ten minutes. Sorry, but you aren’t getting rid of me that easily.” She pats Rachel’s cheek condescendingly and hooks their arms together. Rachel takes a sip of her drink.

“Now, let’s find your boyfriend.”

“Shut up, Drew.”

Rachel mingles and Drew charms (non-magically). It’s strange how Rachel is no longer in contact with her family, but their influence reaches even here. She explains her piece, people see her last name, recognizing Richard Dare’s corporation, and Rachel politely explains that she is no longer in contact with him. 

After what seems like the twelfth time explaining the meaning behind her painting, someone taps her shoulder. Rachel turns around to see Percy’s bright, and apologetic grin. He cringes.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you got here I’m-”

Rachel places a hand on his shoulder with a small smile. “Percy. You’re fine. Technically, the thing hasn’t even started yet.”

Percy nods and looks the redhead over, she blushes from his gaze. 

“You look...” He’s at a loss for words. “ _Wow_. Rachel, you look amazing.”

Rachel brushes a strand of her half-up hairstyle away from her neck. Heat crawls up her cheeks. “You clean up nice too, Percy.”

He’s wearing a pressed, sharp suit with a black jacket and tie. His hair is styled and shiny, the curls looking especially defined. He looks great.

He looks at her for a split second and Rachel feels like there’s something he’s holding back. He opens his mouth to say something right when someone clears their throat.

Rachel turns, expecting Drew’s perfectly arched eyebrow and catlike smirk, only to see her father. Standing there, in the flesh, in his ginger KFC man, annoyingly stuck up glory is Richard Dare.

Rachel steels herself. She hasn’t seen her father in years, so why he would decide to talk to her now is a mystery.

“Richard,” she says blankly. His nose crinkles just the slightest. “Would you like to hear about my painting?”

Her father stays silent, examining her work. The painting is of a stormy sea, dark blue and raging. The grey --almost black-- clouds roll in behind the waves, capturing a force of nature in a canvas. Below the waters, stands a boy with jet black hair and an orange t-shirt controlling it all.

Rachel feels someone’s hand on her shoulder, and she knows Percy knows it’s her dad. He speaks up.

“Excuse me, sir,” Percy says politely. “You’re making my friend uncomfortable and I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”

Percy isn’t bound by old family grudges, he can say whatever he wants and Rachel will always be grateful he chose to say that. 

Richard Dare looks him up and down, most likely wondering who this man is until the connection clicks in his eyes.

“Perseus,” he says smoothly, reaching out a hand to shake Percy’s. Percy leaves him hanging. “How are you?”

“I’m fine but-” 

Rachel puts a hand on Percy’s shoulder, he looks at her with a fight in his eyes. Rachel shakes her head.

She doesn’t ask her father why he’s at the gallery. She doesn’t want to know and, for her own sanity, she better not ask. Rachel left the Dare family a long time ago, and their business is no longer hers. 

Before Richard leaves, when the benefactor arrives, he finally addresses Rachel. He peers at her with cold, analyzing blue eyes.

“You claim to be done with our family,” he says slowly. “But you still reap the benefits of our last name.”

With that, he walks away into the crowds, disappearing before Rachel can even respond. She blinks, once, twice, then the weight of his words hit her like a pick-up. She stuffs down the sadness always sparked by the presence of her parents and the emotions she’s been suppressing for around three years.

Rachel's worked. She's worked so hard in these couple years to make a name for herself, to distinguish herself from the harmful last name of Dare. The very idea that her last name contributes to her partial success makes her sick to her stomach. 

She looks at Percy, who has a specific sort of anger written on his face. He looks like he’s about to storm off and find her father himself but Rachel grabs his hand, making him look at her.

“Please,” she says quietly. “Stay with me. I can’t...please, just stay.”

The words do the trick because Percy’s expression softens and he pulls her into a hug. Rachel breathes in the scent of a crisp suit and his cologne. The benefactor is saying something, but the only thing Rachel wants to do is get out of there, order takeout, and curl up in her bed. Those wishes may or may not include Percy, but she knows doesn’t want to be _here_.

“You wanna leave?” Percy asks her, his voice barely a mumble. Rachel shakes her head.

“I have to do the responsible thing and stay,” she frowns. “Really missing my years of recklessness right about now.”

Percy chuckles and pulls back, squeezing her arm supportively. “If you want me to make a toilet explode when your dad goes to the bathroom, I’ll do it.”

“Oh my gods, _please_.”

* * *

_1 - she loves him. he loves her too_

* * *

Rachel makes peace with her discovery rather quickly.

To her, love isn’t a shocking revelation. It’s a slow process of knowing and coming to terms with it. The challenge in her situation isn’t “discovering” she loves Percy, it’s figuring out how to _tell him_.

Rachel glances at Percy over her laptop. He’s happily wrapped in a blanket burrito and watching a fight scene from a movie. He came over around an hour ago.

“Percy,” Rachel says. She doesn’t know why she said his name, she just hates silence. “What are you watching?”

He scooches so he’s sitting next to her and his back is against the headboard. “I got a job as a stuntman for this action movie. I’m just watching the work of the other guy.”

Rachel smiles at him and bumps his shoulder. “This early in your career too? Damn. Invite me to the red carpet.”

“I only got it because the other guy got fired,” Percy mutters. Rachel shoots a glare at him.

“Give yourself some credit! You’re talented.”

“I had help from years of demigod training.” Then Percy slides his laptop over their laps so she can watch with him. Rachel imagines Percy executing the complicated acrobatic moves, sticking the landings, and sparring with strangers. It reminds her of the wars he’s fought in, and part of her still wonders why he’d choose a career like martial arts.

Percy does something that makes Rachel catch her breath. He lies his head on her shoulder, wrapped up in a blanket burrito, looking startlingly comfortable and disarmingly cute. 

In the handful of years she has known Percy, Rachel knows he doesn’t open up that easily. He doesn’t even open up to people close to him. She considers this moment of vulnerability to be an honor. She made it to that level of trust. 

Rachel grins as she wraps an arm around his shoulders. She’s not even paying attention to the scene playing in front of them, only at the way Percy’s blanket barrier is puffy and his hair is tickling her chin and _him_.

“Percy.”

“Yeah?”

Rachel looks at him, waiting for him to meet her eyes. He leans his head to the side slightly, his dark eyebrows scrunch in questioning. Her grin melts into a soft smile.

“I love you,” she says quietly. “Like...I’m _in_ love with you.”

Maybe it was stupid, saying it like that. Maybe she should have waited for the right moment, maybe she should have waited, _period_. Still, the look in his eyes drives her to an answer. Who’s Rachel kidding? It’s probably unrequited, he probably only thinks she’s a friend because he got out of a relationship a year ago and he’s enjoying the independence of singlehood or-

“I love you too,” Percy laughs, interrupting her spiral. Rachel blinks.

“Shit, I did...not expect that.”

Percy lifts an eyebrow. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re the one in love with me.”

“I can’t _believe_ you’re using that against me right now.”

Rachel smiles in relief. She doesn’t know what she’d do if he didn’t feel the same. She doesn’t know how their relationship would be affected if she had blurted that out just for it to be one-sided.

Percy sits up and glances at his computer, at her, then at his blanket. “This would be way more romantic if I wasn’t trapped in a blanket.”

Rachel snorts, “Just take it off.”

“But it’s _comfortable_.”

The redhead looks at him for a good second. He’s right about the blanket burrito making for a less eventful confession than she had planned, but there’s also part of her that has made peace with the fact that they’ll always be weird. Rachel debates whether to ask, then throws caution to the wind.

“Can I kiss you?” She breathes. Percy’s eyes widen as he nods his consent. Part of Rachel processes how dorky this would look to someone watching them. There’s a man in a burrito blanket and a woman who doesn’t know how to smoothly initiate a kiss. It reminds her of when they were sixteen. It’s safe to say that now is different because she is _much_ less cool.

Rachel leans in, her eyes fluttering shut. Percy does the same, and she can feel his breath fan on her lips. Her heart beats louder as she draws closer. Their lips brush for the barest, blissful second.

Then the lightbulb on her desk lamp explodes and Rachel knows _exactly_ who’s responsible.

The two jumped away from each other at the explosion. Rachel discreetly takes a steadying breath as her shock morphs into annoyance.

“Ignore that,” she scowls. “It’s just Apollo being a _petty jerk_.”

Her last words come out louder and Rachel can imagine the sun god’s eye roll. Percy snickers.

“Do I have competition?” He jokes. Rachel shoots him a glare.

“Don’t even say that. He might take it seriously.”

As she pouts, she rests her head on his chest. Percy plays with her hair as they do nothing. The scene playing on his computer had been abandoned for more interesting activities. A memory of a thought from Piper’s wedding flashes back to her. The idea of finding lasting happiness with another person...

Rachel smiles as she breathes in his scent. _Here he is_. 


End file.
